


Spideypool Performs Dead Girl Walking

by Cha_Cha_Slide



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dead Girl Walking, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Theyre both 17, and spelling, hand holding, have fun with that, highschool, im bad at tagging, performing, peter is vincent sawyer, peters pov, sorry for this mess that nobody asked for lmao, wade is jd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-10 17:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19510900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cha_Cha_Slide/pseuds/Cha_Cha_Slide
Summary: Peter is performing in his high school’s production of The Heathers as the lead role: Vincent Sawyer. But he’s dreading one song in particular...(Or the fic where Peter and Wade perform Dead Girl Walking)





	Spideypool Performs Dead Girl Walking

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry I’m advance if the spelling is poor, I did proof read it a few times but I’m kinda shit at English, so don’t expect too much lol
> 
> (Sorry the title sucks too lmao)

I stand on the full size, wooden stage, in the dark once more, staring out at the shadowy faces of the audience. I try to spot my parents and my friends, but I can’t differentiate between all of the monochrome heads on the tiered seating. I’m feeling incredibly nervous about performing this song, for many reasons. 

One, Tony and Steve have to watch this, and they have no idea it’s coming as I didn’t tell them what the musical was at all. I know Tony will probably just find it funny, and I know he’s gonna bring it up for weeks after. But Steve, well, he’s gonna be disapproving at best...

Two, I haven’t rehearsed this properly, because our drama teacher just wanted us to go for it. Then again, I guess it’d get awkward having to rehearse this every single day, even if the person who plays JD is super hot. 

Three- oh god, the spotlight is on me. 

I am half blinded by the dimmer than usual blue filtered light, and hear the band play the opening notes of the song. I take a deep breath and compose myself, before letting my voice ring out into the quiet. 

“The demon queen of high school has decreed it. She says Monday, eight AM, I will be deleted. They’ll hunt me down in study hall, stuff and mount me on the wall, 30 hours to live, how shall I spend them?”

I begin pacing slowly up and down for effect, while trying not to look at the dark window frame prop I will soon have to climb through.

“I don’t have to stay and die like cattle. I could change my name and ride up to Seattle. But I don’t own a motorbike. Wait-“

I stop pacing mid sentence and stare out at the audience and then flick my gaze to the window frame, holding a hand up.

“Here’s an option that I like. Spend these 30 hours getting freaky!”

To emphasise the last word, I give the audience a suggestive look, pull my blazer jacket off my shoulders and run my hands down my body. 

Another spotlight goes onto the white painted, wooden window frame to my left, as I turn towards it. I try not to imagine what my parents may be thinking now, so I can deliver the best performance possible. 

“Yeah! I need it hard, I’m a dead boy walking. I’m in your yard, I’m a dead boy walking.” 

I strut confidently over towards the window, and my heart flips when I see Wade through it, lying on the bed, reading a book and waiting for a light to be cast on him too. He’s missing his signature black trench coat, but is still wearing a plain black T-shirt and skinny jeans. 

“Before they punch my clock, I’m snapping off your window lock.”

I pull the prop lock off of the side of the window frame, and throw it behind me, which makes a clatter which only I can hear over the sound of the orchestra. I begin climbing through the window as gracefully and quickly as I can, trying to keep in time with the music. Thankfully it’s not too high, so I manage without much difficulty (or falling).

“Got no time to knock, I’m a dead boy walking.”

The spotlight falls on Wade, who sits up suddenly, and stares at me. 

“V? What are you doing in my room?” He quips, and is about to get up off his bed when I rush over to him and put my finger over his lips. 

“Shhh! Had to see you, hope I didn’t wake you. See, I decided I must ride you ‘till I break you.”

I swing a knee over his thigh, so I am on the bed now, straddling his right leg. I’ve got my hands on his shoulders for support, and judging by his expression, he is shocked at my forwardness, despite having read the script and been expecting it. 

“‘Cause Heather said I’ve gots to go, you’re my last meal on death row. Shut your mouth, and loose them tighty whities.”

He puts his hands on my waist hesitantly, and throw my arms up in the air before shouting;

“Come on! Tonight I’m yours, I’m a dead boy walking.”

I tear off my blazer and throw it on the floor before I can overthink what I’m about to do, and so I can just enjoy what is going to happen. 

“Get on all fours, kiss this dead boy walking. Lets go, you know the drill, I’m hot and pissed and on the pill.” 

With each of the three words, I tick it off on my fingers, and hear the audience let out a chuckle at the line about me being on the pill. I grab Wade’s hair roughly with one hand and pull his face a bit closer to me. 

“Bow down to the will of a dead boy walking.” 

Letting up on pulling his hair, I instead cup his cheek and smile at him. I take in his strangely gorgeous features, his piercing blue eyes, the thick scar that runs across his heavy set jaw and cheek, his shining sandy brown hair. 

“And you know, you know, you know, it’s ‘cause you’re beautiful. You say you’re numb inside, but I can’t agree. So the world’s unfair, keep it locked out there. In here it’s beautiful. Let’s make this beautiful.”

Somehow, I find myself meaning every single word of it, like it’s not just acting. His eyes glimmer at me, and he grabs my hips again.

“That works for me- oop!” 

He’s cut off by my lips meeting his in a hurried kiss, and responds instantly. My hands both fly into his hair, as I kiss him desperately and passionately, feeling his tongue roam my mouth hungrily. His fingers are underneath my shirt, running up my sides and across my chest, his cool skin on mine is electric. And yet it all just feels so natural. 

Our bodies are pressed flush against one another, fingers groping, we almost miss the que to stop making out, and carry on with the song. 

“Yeah! Full steam ahead, take this dead boy walking!” 

I pull my own shirt over my head hastily, before reaching for his and pulling it off him. I get momentarily distracted by his body, which is tanned and muscular.

“How’d you find my address?”

“Let’s break the bed, rock this dead boy walking!”

I notice him undoing his belt, so I reach forward and help him with it. I’m fully straddling his lap by this point, and our crotches are probably closer than needed.

“I think you tore my mattress!”

“No sleep tonight for you, better chug that Mountain Dew.” 

“Okay, okay.”

We’ve got his belt off now, and discarded that on the stage with our shirts.

“Get your ass in gear, make this whole town disappear.”

“Okay, okay!” 

“Slap me, pull my hair.”

For both these things, I do my best to demonstrate, grabbing one of his hands and putting it on my cheek, and then pushing it into my hair. He clenches it into a fist, and the sharp sensation rattles through me. I arc my back slightly against it, and realise I’m maybe getting way too into this role...

“Touch me there, and there, and there.”

I use his other hand and trail it down my chest, my thigh and finally to my ass, which he squeezes tightly in response, pulling me into him. We’re infinitely closer once again, chest to chest, noses nearly brushing. It’s crazy how intimate this moment feels even though it’s a performance for a huge audience. 

“But no more talking! Love this dead boy walking!”

“Oh oh, hey hey, yeah yeah.”

“Love this dead boy walking!”

“Oh oh, hey hey, yeah yeah!”

“Love this dead boy-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

We roll our hips together on each syllable, the friction starting to get to me while really trying to sell the scene as best we can. But at this point, I’m not even sure we’re doing it for that. 

“Ouch!”

He was supposed to say this, but I can tell the pain was genuine behind the word, as I had nipped his neck less than gently. I’ll apologise when we’re next on break. 

“Yeaaaah!”

On the final note, we both raise our hands up and throw our heads back. Then we’re plunged into darkness, and sit panting quietly, perfectly still. The curtain falls, and I just stare at Wade. He looks endlessly happy, and I can feel myself smiling too. We can hear the audience clapping and whistling behind the black curtain, and the main lights turn back on. 

Our drama teacher rushes on set along with some of the other students who were hired to help with moving the props on and off stage. 

“You guys! That was amazing!” He gushes, looking completely blown away, “Where the hell did that come from?”

We both blush, realising exactly who had seen that. Everyone had. 

I cough nervously, and push myself off of Wade slowly, so he can get up and the bed can be moved off stage.

“Honestly sir, I have no idea,” I say, almost truthfully, “I guess it was just spur of the moment?” 

Wade stands up and takes a place besides me. We’re both still shirtless, which I begin to feel self conscious about, and also quite vulnerable. Thankfully, one of the helping students passes both of us our discarded items of clothing. Including Wade’s belt, which makes us both blush even more.

“Well, it was great, keep up the good work boys. We’ve got an intermission now, you can go and get a drink or see your parents if you want,” he smiles at us, and walks off towards the wings. 

I look to Wade, who grins at me, and wiggles his eyebrows. I’m blushing at maximum capacity, and will probably get mistaken for a tomato by any passerby’s. I elbow him, and look away. 

“Do you wanna go get a drink?” He asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice without needing to see it. I shrug at him, realising I am indeed thirsty after that performance.

“Yeah sure, let’s go,” I reply, and pull my shirt back over my head. He looks strangely disappointed, and I do my best to ignore it. He puts his own shirt back on, muscles flexing impressively before being hidden by the thin black T-shirt. 

I begin padding towards the wings, and he races after me. We head through the changing area together, and get congratulated and wolf whistled by the other students and some of the teachers. 

Finally, we make it outside of the backstage area, and go to the gym, where drinks are being served to everyone. There’s a long table at the bed with an assortment of drinks and snacks, and volunteers serving them. But there’s also a very long queue. 

With a sigh, we join onto the back of it, and hope it’s moving faster than it looks to be. 

Our quiet contentment is interrupted by someone tapping me firmly on the shoulder. I turn quickly to see who it is, and am met by Steve and Tony’s strange looks. A feeling of dread washes over me, and the weight of what I just participated in sets over me. I am so screwed. 

“May I be the first to ask,” says Steve, calmly, “what the FUCK was that?” I flinch inwardly, because he’s either really angry or just really confused. But either way, it’s an extreme, because he never swears. Ever. 

“Ummm, the show?” I say, hopefully. Tony sniggers at me, and Steve glares at him. 

“This explains why you didn’t want to have any kids watching,” says Tony, and I know he’s finding this absolutely hilarious. Wether it’s Steve’s confusion or my embarrassment that is more funny remains a mystery, but he is definitely laughing at one (or both) of us. 

I laugh nervously, and Wade turns around to look at them too. Steve glares at Wade as if it’s his fault that I did that. Wade just raises his hands in a surrender. 

“Woah, watch the glare, you might cut someone,” he shoots at Steve, who ignores him and just caries on glaring at us both. Tony stifles more laughter, pretending it was a cough when Steve looks at him. 

“Hey, Steve, come on, it’s fine. Peter’s 17 now. They were just having fun. And it was pretty hot- OW!” Tony rubs his arm where Steve elbowed him, and gives him a wounded look. 

“Ugh, fine Tony. Anyway, who are you kid? I don’t think I’ve seen you at any school events,” Steve says to Wade, looking genuinely curious.

“I’m Wade,” he says, holding out his hand, “And you probably haven’t seen me because I’m not exactly the type to go to those things. And my old man hates it, so we never wind up going.”

Steve turns to me. “How long have you known him?” He asks.

“I met him while working on this project. We had to practice a lot of lines together, so we ended up being friends,” I reply.

“I think more than friends by this point...” Wade mutters, and I elbow him playfully. Tony and Steve are staring again, which makes me start blushing. 

A slightly awkward silence settles over us, and is interrupted by someone announcing loudly that we should move forward because we’re holding up the line. We move forward, and I catch sight of a bruise forming on Wade’s neck where I bit him. Tony spots me blushing again, and follows my gaze to the fresh bruise. 

“Quite the mark you’ve left there Peter,” he comments slyly, “you must really like him.” I stare at him, blushing like crazy and wishing I could just disappear in that moment. Wade smiles gently at me, and nudges my arm.

“I certainly hope he does,” Wade responds, “‘Cause it really did hurt like hell. And I was thinking of asking him to come and get some tacos with me when we finish the show...” 

I stand staring, shocked at this. Did I hear him right? From the looks Steve and Tony are giving him, I think I did. Wade looks at me with a prompting expression. I take a deep breath. This is happening.

“Yeah, tacos sound great,” I smile. 

Tony coughs and raises his eyebrows at Wade. 

“Ah, of course Mr. Stark-Rogers. May I have permission from the fathers of one Peter Stark-Rogers to take him to Taco-Bell after the show has finished?” Wade asks, eloquently (by his standards anyway).

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. But have him home before curfew,” says Tony jokingly, and Wade salutes in response. 

“Will do good sirs. Now, if you’ll excuse us, this queue is taking way too long, and I have a bottle of water in the changing room,” says Wade, and then he turns his attention to me, “You coming?”

I smile softly at him. “Yeah sure, let’s go.”

He grabs my hand and laces our slightly sweaty fingers together. Normally, something like that would gross me out, but with him I don’t really mind. 

“Adios to you both,” Wade calls over his shoulder to my parents, and I wave back to them as we head off. 

As soon as we’re out of earshot, Wade leans down and whispers to me, “Now Petey, what do you say we go and find a nice empty classroom for the last 10 minutes of break...”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism are welcome!


End file.
